Archive of Our Own

— K — 

Shouldering the door of the old townhouse open, Kuroo Tetsurou wasn’t sure what to expect. However, the sound of soft hissing had been low on his list. Hands full with a large cardboard box and vision impaired by willfully unruly hair, he was at a loss to see where the sound came from. A frown marred his features momentarily. Had the landlord mentioned a cat? The guy seemed a cheeky sort, he looked near to Kuroo’s own age and hadn’t asked near the number of normal questions. Had he even notified the house’s current resident that Kuroo would be moving in? 

Kuroo couldn’t remember if the guy had mentioned it. In fact, all he could remember was being handed the keys with a cryptic “I think you’ll find the house has everything you need”. It hadn’t seemed creepy when paired with a flash of silver hair and a cheerful wink, but as a low growl reverberated around the bare walls of the entryway, Kuroo second-guessed his instincts.

It wasn’t like he had a lot of options, though. Being born of a siren and succubus left a lot of folk with suspicion over who, or what, Kuroo really was. And, whether fortunate or unfortunate, he didn’t really have an answer to that question. He just… was. He’d long since put his discomfort with his lineage behind him, there was nothing to do for it, anyways. However, upon occasion, it did come to haunt him and he was reminded again of the curiosity he was to those who didn’t know him. It came up at rather inconvenient times, too, like trying to find housing on a time crunch without a current housemate to vouch for his generally benign nature. 

It had seemed almost too easy when the landlord here hadn’t required any kind of Ability ID or Proof of Peaceful Passage. With a last-minute job transfer that didn’t afford much time for acquiring such paperwork on short notice, Kuroo thought maybe he’d finally had a stroke of actual good luck, something he was unfamiliar with. At least, finding a place that came furnished with affordable rent, no background check, and only one housemate had seemed like luck. But then again, the decidedly unfriendly sounds coming from somewhere near the back of the shared living space sounded worryingly like the consequences of his actions. 

“Hello?” 

His voice caught in the soft carpeted flooring, hushed to a whisper like a secret. Not that Kuroo was generally all that loud by nature, he’d left that to a rowdy group of friends he’d left behind in his hometown. It hardly took volume for Kuroo to be heard; with his heritage people often found themselves leaning in to hear him involuntarily. It wasn’t quite a siren song, nor was it the come-hither seduction of a demon, but it left Kuroo with a strange sort of charismatic power, a honey-laden charm that oozed out of every syllable from his teasing mouth. He’d never had much control over the ability one way or the other, but the way the house absorbed his question left his voice sounding hesitant and unsure, something he was confident he’d never heard before. At least, not in his spoken voice. 

It was… unsettling, and he briefly clenched his jaw against the disquiet. The feeling would pass. He’d been told his new housemate was a quiet sort. Perhaps the house’s furnishings were situated to accommodate that for him; the landlord said he’d been a longtime resident. Kuroo had taken that information with a bland smile and read between the lines on his own time. He’d expected to find someone odd and reclusive, possibly even on the prickly side. That suited Kuroo fine. He didn’t need new friends. He’d left all the friends he needed back in his hometown. He was here to further his career and little more. It was likely he wouldn’t even have time to befriend his new housemate, regardless of how friendly or unfriendly either of them were. 

After long moments in the open doorway with no response to his question, Kuroo took the first step fully inside. There was no rush of protective magic hurtling him off the front porch, though a low hum did thrum quickly from his feet to his hair— he could feel the static holding him on pins and needles. It felt like everything was holding its breath, from Kuroo, to whatever had been making the threatening growl, to the house itself. He toed his shoes off, feeling himself sink into the soft carpeting just beyond the tiled entryway and he let out a breath. Kuroo had no proof, but he swore the house sighed with him. The air felt welcoming, the static dissipating, and even if the unfriendly growl picked up again, it was more subdued, almost resigned. 

With a half-shrug that shifted his fluffed hair over his right eye again, Kuroo readjusted the boxes in his grip and moved further into the house to unpack. He refused to take this as an auspicious start. 

— U — 

Kuroo had begun to worry that the landlord had lied, or that his roommate had possibly fled the premises, when after two weeks of supposedly living in the same space he’d not seen a single sign of another being. He hadn’t taken his landlord for the heartless type, and something in the way he shrugged Kuroo off felt bemused, like he knew something Kuroo did not. Which was likely, and Kuroo knew better than to argue with witches. 

Still, it was strange living in a house with no hum of the television, no sound of someone answering a call, not even a familiar click of fingers on a keyboard from the room across the hall. There was reclusive, that Kuroo could understand, but it was like this guy didn’t even exist. While the door to Kuroo’s room remained open most hours, sound spilling from his speakers or familiar voices laughing from his laptop screen, the red door across from him stayed stubbornly closed. 

He looked at it every morning as he woke up for the day, his frown deepening further with each passing sunrise. He didn’t mind living by himself, but it felt wrong to be alone in a house that should have had a second occupant. It wasn’t that he was lonely, he had friends after all, he just hadn’t expected to be alone. 

 A familiar low growl rippled through the air, softened as the cozy blankets and pillows surrounding the kotatsu lovingly held onto the notes, smoothing down the edges. “You don’t count as ‘living with someone’, you’re a pet, not a person,” Kuroo told the cat. He heard it grumble in response and smiled a little.

He wouldn’t call the cat friendly. In fact, he’d hardly dare to call it anything at all. He’d found the source of the less-than-warm-welcome on his first day in the house, the small calico bundle had been hunkered under the kotatsu, ears flat and eyes glaring. There had been no water bowl left out in the kitchen and no collar around the fluffy neck, nothing to indicate that the cat in question was indeed supposed to be here and Kuroo had been prepared to shoo it out before he met the cat’s eyes. The color had matched Kuroo’s own odd golden gaze and had him lifting his eyebrows in quiet surprise as the cat’s growl stopped mid-note. 

“Well, that’s some greeting.” His voice still sounded… wrong. There was no musical lilt to it, no golden edge of charm. Kuroo couldn’t be sure, but for the first time he thought the voice he heard aloud matched the voice he heard in his head. He’d think more on that later though. 

Crouching down, he held out one hand, fingers curled softly as the cat’s ears started to soften and flick forward. “Are you my housemate by chance? No offense, but you don’t look like you’ve paid rent in your life.” The ears went back again as a needle-filled paw swept at his hand. It was a narrow miss, either a warning shot or the first cat to have bad aim. “Oh ho ho, the kitten has claws, does he? Well, we don’t have to be pals or anything, but as of today I live here, too.” 

The cat had made no reply, opting instead to curl itself into a tighter ball, tail wrapped close around small front paws. He sighed. “You wouldn’t happen to know where your owner is so I could actually introduce myself to someone who might care? Or at least know his name?” Those honey-deep eyes narrowed as the cat quietly spit what sounded like insults in whatever language cats used. Kuroo had shrugged with a bemused smirk as the growl picked up again, humming over his skin. It should have been unpleasant, the audible promise of pain should he continue his teasing. And yet, there was something about it that made him chuckle softly while he slowly lowered the kotatsu’s skirt down again. 

“Fine, then. But don’t come crying to me for extra food if you’re just going to be rude.”

— R — 

He hadn’t found the cat’s owner or his housemate (assuming they were one and the same) on that first day. Nor any of the days after. It should have been fine, he’d been exhausted coming home from the new job— a new job, a new city, new coworkers— he was mentally worn out. What he hadn’t expected, though, was the small calico bundle of grump glaring him down every time he opened the door at the end of the day.

That first night Kuroo had remembered with sudden clarity that his perusal through the kitchen had not revealed any form of cat supplies. The cat had sniffed interestedly at the takeout box he’d left on the counter, though, and despite his earlier threat, Kuroo had never been one to withhold sharing a meal. Honestly, he had no idea if cats were supposed to eat ramen but the cat did well enough slurping the broth and gently scooping noodles and vegetables with a soft-looking white paw.

Kuroo watched between bites, waiting until the cat seemed to be finished, sitting primly and cleaning off the paw it had used in place of utensils. He raised one eyebrow, pausing in his own eating. 

“Oh ho ho? And look who came crying to me for food after all.” 

The cat blinked at him once, expressionless, huffing a long-suffering sigh. It sat further back on its multi-colored haunches and cleaned the other paw with careful disinterest. Kuroo cracked a small smile, even as one hand reached up to rub at his ear. 

It still didn’t sound quite right to his own ears, the timbre of his voice. It lacked that smooth glide, the inviting drip of smoke he often used to his advantage. He would have sworn something about this house pulled whatever small gift he had straight out of him, but he hardly wanted to pay the fees for a cleansing or even a scrying on the house’s charms. He didn’t have anyone to impress here at home, anyways. Who was he trying to seduce, the cat? He wasn’t looking for friends, and he hardly had the energy to hunt down any new conquests, so it really made no difference if his voice wasn’t as husky or tempting as he’d like. 

Perhaps he wasn’t trying to seduce the cat, but he wasn’t trying to chase it away, either. It was the only living thing Kuroo had to talk to in the house, and as he studied the creature he took in the tiny grace of the front paws, the alert shape to the ears, one black, one chestnut brown, he even tried to make sense of the splotches of color across the cat’s body. Some calicos seemed absolutely saturated in color, but this one looked like he’d run out of enthusiasm for his painting job somewhere around a third of the way through the job. Mostly white, with a few spots of colorful on his haunches, the main smattering of color focused at the top of his shoulders, extending over both ears. He was a handsome little creature overall, and he had polite enough table manners for a cat. Kuroo knew the cat wasn’t his, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t help look after it, right? Or at least make sure it was fed?

He stretched his hand out, fingers crooked invitingly. Resting his chin in his hand, he didn’t bother to hide how his expression softened, he’d always had a weak spot for cats. 

“You know, you’re really not as difficult as you think you are. We could be friends you know. If you wanted.” 

— O — 

His friends had quit asking about his housemate. Much like Kuroo, they’d given up on that odd mystery, instead opting for asking about Kuroo’s boyfriend– the cat.

“Bo, you’ve got to stop calling him that.” 

<<You’re the one that insists it’s a he!>>

Kuroo frowned. He was sure the cat was male, even if he had no proof. It felt far too invasive to sex the creature at this point, but something told him he was right like the clear ring of a bell. 

“It is– I mean he is a he! But that’s not what I mean–”

<<Well after almost two months of living together you haven’t given him a name, so what else are we supposed to call him?>>

The bright, electric voice was different from the one before, and Kuroo peeked his head at his tablet propped up against a pillow on his bed. He grinned at the sprite even as he shook his head. “It feels weird giving him a name, Noya. I’m sure he has one already. You wouldn’t want me to rename Azumane just because I didn’t know his name, would you?” 

An irreverent grin met his through the screen, <<I dunno, depends on what you’d call him?>>

“Well, I’m not gonna call him ‘my angel’ or anything sappy.”

The sprite cackled with Kuroo as a third voice came through the speakers, cool and full of reproach, <<I make no apologies for having a winged lover.>> 

Kuroo paused in full to make eye contact with the odd teal ones watching him with disapproval. His clean laundry lay abandoned on his bed as he watched the screen, full of his friends. He quirked up a half-grin, “I wouldn’t dream of asking for an apology from you, Akaashi.” 

The responding sniff was enough to send him and Noya into laughter again. It was so easy, talking with them like this. It was a good reminder– that he was loved, that he meant something to people, and that they meant something to him. 

The fourth and final voice Kuroo had been missing piped up, soft and kind as always. <<Where is the little guy, anyway? I don’t hear him grumbling about all the noise we’re making like he usually does.>>

Kuroo raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you speak cat, Azumane?” 

The broad cheekbones and thick neck flushed, visible even over the screen’s iffy quality as he mumbled his reply. <<Oh, not me, sometimes Akaashi says– it’s nothing.>>

Kuroo’s eyebrow lifted higher. Seers weren’t exactly known for being linguists. He meant to ask a follow-up question when a flutter of feathers overtook the screen, wide round eyes visible at the bottom as muffled shouts and sounds of discomfort came through from behind Bo. 

<<Where is he though? Can you show him to us? He’s so cute, I wanna see him!>>

”You’ve seen him a million times before, Bo. He looks the same.”

Small, strong arms looped around Bokuto’s neck as Noya koala-clung to his back to see Kuroo, too. <<Are you trying to say he’s not cute? Do you not want to hold him up and show him off Lion King style?>>

Kuroo snapped back without thinking, “Of course he’s cute, you’ve seen him, he’s probably the cutest cat ever.” Kuroo frowned, they always knew how to bait him. Bo unintentionally, Noya with enough intention for the entire household. Knowing he’d been beaten, he lifted the tablet to pan to the small cat, sleeping soundly on one of his old red and black hoodies, the little back rising and falling with each breath. 

“You guys know you can come visit and see him anytime, right?” 

<<Yeah and we want to but Akaashi says we have to wait unti–>>

A muffled thud and the familiar sound of an elbow making impact on a ribcage cut of Nishinoya’s sentence. 

“Noya, you don’t have to wait. Akaashi what weird thing did you see in your tea leaves? Does the moon have to be in a certain house?” 

Kuroo flipped the camera back to face him, pinned to the spot by those knowing eyes. 

<<Don’t be trite, you pain-in-the-ass. We’re just making sure you’re fully settled, we’re a… disruptive group as you well know.>>

Frowning a little, Kuroo’s head tipped ever so slightly to one side. “I’m pretty settled, man. I’d love to see you guys.” 

Silver feathers with black roots took over the camera again, Bo’s voice bouncing from the tablet through Kuroo’s room, a welcome echo of warmth. <<We’ll come see you soon, ’Kaashi said it should be soon!>>

“You had better, I miss you guys.” 

<<We miss you, too.>> The screen’s occupant changed again and Azumane’s calming presence was almost tangible, even across Kuroo’s spotty wi-fi connection. Kuroo was still convinced his size increased the power of his soothing aura (though that didn’t quite explain Noya’s ability to light them all up at a moment’s notice). He smiled softly at his friend as the part-giant shifted a little, clearly choosing his next words carefully. <<You sound good though, Kuroo. Still… I dunno, still not quite like you used to sound, but more like you if that even makes sense.>>

Before he had the chance to ask what that meant, there were more sounds of struggle, muffled thuds, barked curses, one shout of surprise, and the camera went dark. 

“Bye, guys. Love you.” 

He sighed, saying the words to a blank screen. He did love his friends, he missed them like a phantom limb some days. He’d thought maybe he’d just been taking his time getting to know his new city before finding a new group to fall into, but as days passed he’d finally admitted that even if they’d fallen into his lap, he didn’t want new friends. He had friends, great ones, even if they were a decent train ride away now. He was just… lonely. 

Not that it was a new feeling. It was the same kind of lonely he’d been before, though. As the permanent bachelor of the group, he’d taken it in stride, easily fending off the ache with a full calendar of events and an equally full bed of rotating strangers. It had been harder since the move. He’d come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t going to replace his friends, but meeting someone for something more than friendship had always been… tricky. 

On paper, Kuroo should have had no issue finding a partner. Tall, objectively good-looking (if a little on the lanky side), dark hair, a good smile, he should have been a catch. It may have even been that he was a catch, but he never knew for sure. His parents hadn’t exactly set him up for success as far as genetics were concerned. Kuroo found bedpartners easy enough, but he found it difficult to progress from those easy-come-easy-go kinds of relationships. How could he find anything deeper when girls and guys alike went all starry-eyed at the sound of his voice? He’d tried meeting people in loud, crowded bars, hoping to drown out any power from his words with sheer volume and noise. It had seemed like a fine idea until the people he thought he’d been enjoying a gentle flirtation with ended up in his lap, eyes wide and hopeful. Apparently pairing a siren with a succubus left the offspring with no choice but to captivate— whether willingly or not. And Kuroo had tried not to, he’d tried charms and odd-colored potions and even a questionable diet of dragon-scale tea for a week, but at the end of it all his voice came out in the same deep-sweet ambrosia tone he’d had since puberty. 

His friends had been a true windfall of luck, something he often felt he was in short supply of. Finding a group of people already paired up had likely been what had saved his sanity in his early adulthood. From meeting upon occasion at pick-up volleyball games in the local adult rec league, they’d readily accepted him as-is, even teasing him good-naturedly for his natural charm while never swaying from their own dependable relationships. It had been surprising for him to find himself surrounded with a tengu, seer, sprite, and part-giant, but they’d been the best thing to happen to him after his parents passing just a few years earlier. 

Just as he’d never expected to find such a perfect hodgepodge of friends to call his own, neither had Kuroo expected his entire life— sleeping pattern included— to be disrupted by a cat that couldn’t weigh more than a particularly dense loaf of bread. His eyes trailed over the sleeping form at the corner of his sweatshirt as he took a steadying breath to help recover from the call. He missed them, but his friends were doing fine and if Akaashi had some seer thing they were waiting on, he’d just have to be patient. For the moment, though, he was tired, mentally, and maybe a little bit emotionally after seeing them all looking so happy. He didn’t begrudge them that, but it was still… complicated. Pile by pile he put the folded clothes atop the unfolded ones in his basket, promising himself tomorrow would be as good a day as any to finish up the chore. Coming to his old sweatshirt, though, he hit a pause. The cat remained sweetly asleep, the short mottled fur unruffled by whatever good dreams caused his front paws to twitch. 

“I’m not sure what you could even be dreaming about,” Kuroo remarked, more to himself than anything. “I’ve never seen you chase so much as your tail, much less a mouse.” 

The cat didn’t respond, though the whiskers did rustle a little as if making a silent retort. He looked sweet asleep, softer somehow. Usually, the creature found hiding places or slunk into his owner’s room for rest, so Kuroo’s ability to observe him without equal sizing up had been limited. He was a small cat, though not precisely dainty. Kuroo would have called him ‘refined’ if he didn’t know for all the sleek lines and soft edges the cat was a grumbling, razor-clawed crossroads between an introvert and an extrovert. What other explanation would there be for how they always seemed to be in the same room, but at least three feet apart?

Observation aside, moving the cat seemed rude, but waking him was asking for punctures from teeth or claws, Kuroo had found that out by unfortunate mistake already. And yet, something about sharing the bed with him— Kuroo was so sure it was a him— felt oddly intimate. It wasn’t like this was a normal cat, after all, and more than once Kuroo had wondered if it was a familiar, or some kind of diluted nekomata. Noya had once suggested it was a kasha, though the lack of dancing corpses in the house seemed to be a good sign. 

Regardless, to stay in the cat’s good graces– just in case– Kuroo had taken to opening up his housemate’s door at night after he found the cat there, grumbling and muttering as he reached in vain for the doorknob. It couldn’t hurt to let the little guy in to sleep on the bed he was used to, anyways, could it? The cat was usually content to keep to his owner’s futon, which Kuroo had taken to dutifully washing every week with his own sheets. But this was new territory. 

Kuroo stared at his own bed and the sleeping loaf of cat for long minutes, aware of how ridiculous he was making the entire situation. But there was nothing to do for it besides sigh and head across the hall to the low futon.

— K — 

He’d awoken to gold eyes staring into his own, and while he’d expected a grumble or growl, Kuroo received neither. If he didn’t know better, he’d say the little multi-colored face looked… contemplative. Still half asleep, he stretched the arm under his pillow out, crooking his fingers. Freezing, he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable bat of a paw (best case scenario) or cut of claws (most likely scenario). The cat paused a moment as Kuroo held his breath, his feline expression still oddly thoughtful, before ducking his small head against the proffered hand with the tiniest rumble he’d made yet. 

Kuroo’s eyes popped wide from where his head lay squished between two pillows. Around the white bulk of pillow fluff, the cat’s golden eyes were no longer visible, closed instead as he stretched his neck out a little to accept the gentle scratches against his chin and cheek. 

“Hey, there.” Kuroo’s murmur was little more than a shift of gravel in his chest, a raspy sound that nearly matched the small purrs emanating from the lithe little body. The cat blinked open his own eyes slowly, almost shyly as he tilted his head for more. 

“Did you know you could be sweet?” 

Gold eyes slid away from his, narrowing to a familiar glare as the soft purr turned back into the usual muttering and grumbling. Kuroo’s rasp morphed into a low chuckle. “There’s my kitten.” The white tail that had been flicking back and forth in annoyance, suddenly whipped out of time knocking into something with a sharp crack and startling them both as the cat jumped to one side, coat fluffed dramatically. 

Searching for the source of the sound, Kuroo took his surroundings with more interest than he had the night before. He’d prided himself on resisting the urge to snoop through his supposed housemate’s things, but it wasn’t exactly snooping when he was just trying to clean up, was it? Looking around, it seemed the cat had bumped into a video game controller, the plastic clattering across the ground making what seemed like an unnecessary amount of noise. 

He roused himself from his comfortable cocoon of blankets, stretching arms high overhead with a pop and and a sigh. Kuroo meant to get up and strip the sheets, but as he reached to right the control’s skewed position he noticed the collection of games and gaming equipment. Without thinking, Kuroo began pursuing through the titles carefully, avoiding wickedly hooked paws swiping at his nosy fingers as he did. 

Kuroo spared the calico a sidelong glance after a particularly sharp claw had nearly embedded itself into his palm. The cat met his eyes, hissing and muttering as Kuroo raised an eyebrow. 

“Can you speak normal cat language? We know you can purr now, so how about a nice healthy meow?” The cat went silent, ears flattening. “I’m just it’s hard to understand you when you mumble sometimes.” 

They sat in stony silence, Kuroo’s fingers itching to grab a box that he thought looked particularly familiar. His eyes snapped back to the cat, all thoughts of the game fleeing at the loud, plaintive MRROWW that filled the room. Both of his eyebrows raised this time, though the second one remained hidden by that stubborn set of bangs. 

“Look, I’ve been patient, but it seems pretty clear that your owner is as good as a ghost. No, less actually, the ghosts I’ve met are usually excellent conversationalists. And I’m not gonna break anything, I won’t even save over any of his games, I promise.” 

The cat seemed somewhat mollified by this, only the tip of his tail twitching as his ears flicked back and forth while Kuroo spoke. He must have said something right, though— truly, because he still sounded so flat and unconvincing to his own ears— because the cat padded across Kuroo’s legs to curl up on the edge of the futon where he’d have a full view of the game screen.  With a half shrug, Kuroo went about selecting a game and waiting for updates. 

It became routine after that, a few times a week Kuroo would nudge open the red door across the hall during the evening hours or on a weekend day and boot up the gaming system. The cat had started watching from the bed, sometimes muttering or making small sounds, but over the weeks had progressed to sitting next to Kuroo’s long, crossed legs. He watched the games with a dogged sort of concentration, often hissing or batting at Kuroo’s hands when he made poor choices or died a bad death on screen. It was almost like having someone there with him, something Kuroo hadn’t realized he’d been missing. 

As things stood now, the small, often disgruntled cat at his knee was the closest thing Kuroo had to an honest relationship, his small friend group notwithstanding. When was the last time he’d had such consistent contact with anything that didn’t hang on his every word? In fact, being scolded and scoffed at, even in cat-language, was maybe even a little bit refreshing. Kuroo refrained from telling the cat any of this, but he did risk reaching one hand out to gently rub around the small multi-colored ears from time to time, his sure fingers continuing their gentle massage as the cat slowly leaned into his knee. They didn’t look at each other or acknowledge this shift, even as it occurred more and more. The cat’s gaze always stayed stubbornly forward towards the game screen as Kuroo navigated the settings with only one hand, but the room felt warmer, more friendly than it had before.

— E — 

Objectively, the view from within the circle of Kuroo’s crossed legs was better for watching the video games, but Kuroo wasn’t sure when the calico cat started sitting there willingly. Neither of them had openly confirmed that the cat’s ‘spot’ was now on Kuroo’s lap, but it became normal for them quickly. The habit crept out of the red-door room on quiet, padded paws, until the cat dozed quietly in Kuroo’s lap as he read at the kitchen counter or shared his dinner at the kotatsu. 

His friends had noticed, though, Akaashi raising a perceptive eyebrow at him as the rest of the group cooed over the cat’s small form during one of their calls. 

“He’s a cat, I feed him. I was bound to win him over at some point.” The cat stopped leaning into the scratches at the base of his ears at that, but Kuroo was distracted by Akaashi’s reply. 

<<I don’t imagine this cat is quite that simple. He may be more than he seems.>>

Kuroo’s laugh rang a little false, slightly spooked that someone else had similar suspicions. “What else could he be, ‘Kaashi?” 

Akaashi’s wrinkled nose and half-shrug were little comfort. <<I just think you’ve done more for each other than provide food and company. You seem… more relaxed.>>

And perhaps there was something to that. Kuroo hadn’t grown up with pets, but this felt different than what he’d imagined. This felt like a friend, or something better. Is this what witches had familiars for? He talked to the cat, receiving huffy breaths and low grumbles that had become as easy to decipher as most normal conversation. He never worried about giving off the wrong impression when this house still took all of his inherent smoothness and left it at the door like a discarded cloak. Rather, he felt lighter, maybe a little rougher or more awkward at times, but never unwelcome or misunderstood. Even the times when he felt he’d said the wrong things or shared a bad take, teeth might have sunk gently into the meat between his thumb and forefinger but never was he spurned or avoided. It was refreshing, to feel liked, genuinely liked, even if it was only by a particularly finicky cat. 

The bossy little thing had progressed in leaps and bounds, from curling up on his lap, to sharing his bed at night– no longer oddly intimate somehow. The cat even went so far as to perch on Kuroo’s shoulder when he came home with takeout after work, grumbling in Kuroo’s ear as he unpacked boxes and set out their plates. 

“You know, you could help, kitten.” 

He swore he felt the cat roll its eyes. 

“No, really. You know where the utensils and napkins are, you don’t need thumbs to grab them on the counter.” 

The little puff of indignant air shifted the hair over his eye, but they both halted their dispute as a quick rap on the door was followed by the metal jangle of a key in the lock. 

Kuroo glanced to his shoulder, feeling something between excitement and dread as he asked, “Is that him? Is that your neglectful owner?” The cat made no response, though his coat had fluffed significantly– not a great sign. 

They’d had more than one conversation, well the cat had sat nearby as more than once Kuroo had railed against his owner’s abandonment, the lack of care and respect for a cat as cute and clever as this one was. Every time the cat would huff and grumble and every time Kuroo would round back on the cat with an accusatory finger. 

“I know you’re a cat and you don’t understand a word I’m saying, but you are cute! Look at your tiny paws! You are clever— you always warn me about the campers on the COD maps. And sure, maybe you’re not the most affectionate, but for a cat, you’re a good listener and you stopped trying to impale me weeks ago!” 

So if this was the villainous supposed owner, Kuroo was prepared to read this guy the riot act. He gently pried the cat from his shoulder, setting the light body down on the counter. 

“You should stay here, this could get ugly.” 

The cat stared back blandly, a sure-fire sign he had no intention of listening, but Kuroo was already halfway across the kitchen. Nearing the front door, his shoulders held high and tight like a tightrope walker, if tightrope walkers moved with rage instead of grace. 

The door swung open easily, and as Kuroo opened his mouth to begin his well-practiced tirade, his jaw fell instead. It was—

“Sugawara?” 

“Tetsurou! Great to see you. I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop in to see how you’re getting on here.” 

“I’m— we’re—”

“We?” Sugawara cut in quickly, something like amusement and hope swirling in those misty grey eyes. 

Unprompted, Kuroo felt the familiar little hooks of tiny claws track up from his calf to his shoulder a hiss, one of the loudest he’d heard yet, ripping like sandpaper through his ears. He made to take a step back and apologize, almost sending the cat toppling to the floor as a white paw, extended and murderous, swiped out in the landlord’s direction with claws flared wide. 

Sugawara brightened noticeably, eyes flitting between Kuroo’s clear concern for the occupant of his shoulder as well as the cat’s obvious comfort in being so close to Kuroo. He reached out fearlessly to ruffle the fur between the cat’s ears as the hissing shifted immediately into an argumentative yowl Kuroo didn’t know the creature was capable of making. The cat sprung from his shoulder with a sudden athleticism Kuroo was also previously unaware of,  tearing off to places unknown within the house. 

“I—”

“Well look at you two, thick as thieves! I’ve never seen him so affectionate, he absolutely adores you. This is better than I could have hoped for! Do you like him back?” 

Kuroo blinked at the turn in conversation. Weren’t they talking about a cat? Why did that phrasing feel so odd?

“Of course I like him, he’s great. I can’t believe his owner just abandoned him, he’s cute, and grumpy, and opinionated, and—”

“Well, this is working out better than I could have ever dreamed.” Sugawara’s eyes sparkled even Kuroo’s darkened at the confusing interruption. The witch continued on with purposeful obliviousness, “Though I dare say our little feline friend looks a touch under the weather. Are you familiar with cat health, Tetsurou?” 

“I mean, not formally—”

“Oh, no worries at all! I happen to have a little tonic here I know will settle him right back to himself. Give him three drops of this with his next meal and he should be completely normal by morning!” 

Kuroo frowned a little, taking the offered bottle reflexively. He examined the small glass container in his hand. It didn’t look like a people-type prescription tonic, it was no bigger than his palm with a dropper secured to the top. Perhaps animal prescriptions were packaged differently, but this didn’t even have a label on it, save a small scrap of paper taped to the side that read “3 drops” in scrawling cursive which was both helpful and unhelpful. 

“How does it work— and he’s gone.” 

The porch and front doorway were empty, no sign of the witch/landlord anywhere. He closed the door, shaking his head. Just when he’d become comfortable with the odd living arrangement, a silver dust storm had to blow through and cover it all with uncertainty again. 

He padded back into the kitchen, still rolling the bottle thoughtfully between two hands as he stopped at the counter. Grilled mackerel still sat on the cutting board, half divided into portions for himself and his dinner companion. The cat sat in his usual spot, on the counter in front of the chair next to Kuroo. If a cat could look conflicted, this one did; his whiskers were pinched, the tufts of fur above his eyes furrowed in an oddly human expression. 

“You okay? Your tail is three times its usual size.” Kuroo reached out a hand to stroke comfortingly over his ears. “Sugawara is gone now. I dunno what beef you two have with each other, but he told me to give you this.” Kuroo held out the bottle for inspection as the cat carefully sniffed at it. “What do you think, kitten?” 

The cat sneezed once, looking up to meet Kuroo’s eyes. Their matched gold shades studied the other a moment before the cat dipped its head in a nod. As clear a signal as any. 

Kuroo unstoppered the bottle and put three drops, carefully counted, onto the fish he’d portioned out on the cat’s plate. His mouth screwed up to one side in distrust. He’d thought his kitte— the cat had been steadily improving. From hissing and clawing at Kuroo’s every move to willingly accepting ear rubs, listening to Kuroo talk about his day over dinner, and chiding him in cat-language grumbles and mutters when Kuroo came home too late after work, Kuroo had felt like they’d made incredible progress. It wasn’t like having a friend exactly but… well, it was embarrassing, but more and more he thought maybe this was kind of what having a partner might be like. Not the cat part, for sure, but someone who was there, who cared, and who liked him for him. It had been… nice. Maybe this was why some folk were so crazy about their pets, but he just didn’t imagine it felt the same. Maybe that’s what all pet people thought. 

He ran a hand slowly down the cat’s spine as they ate, the gentle rumble of his infrequent purr a comfort. The cat was fine. It would be fine. Sugawara wouldn’t give him anything that would hurt his longtime tenant’s cat. He had to believe that.

— N — 

Kuroo awoke with a start, tense and on edge. It was stupid, to be worried for a cat after giving it three drops of medication. It was stupid. And yet… clearly he was stupid because he couldn’t stop worrying. It had clawed at him all night, more painful and distracting than the cat’s attempts at violence had ever been, and he felt the drag of hooked concern tear through any common sense he should have. It was hardly morning and Kuroo blinked quickly to try and adjust to the dark of the room. Carefully, cautiously he stretched a handout, sliding his palm along the top blanket in search of something familiar and fluffy. 

What he found, instead, was something silky, something far smoother than even the cat’s coat was. Kuroo shot up, fumbling for the shade covering the window at the head of his bed. An almost-familiar hiss snapped out from under the blankets, but it was hard to miss the very unfamiliar-sized lump beneath where the cat had been curled up just hours before. 

“Who are you? What have you done with the cat? Why are you in my bed ? Answer me right now before this gets messy.” 

Why oh why did his voice have to sound like this now ? He’d gotten used to how his voice felt in this house, and he’d even admitted it was a bit freeing to know that when he spoke to his friends here, or even to the cat, their reactions and responses were entirely their own, in no way coerced by any latent, uncontrollable ability. However, now would be a great time for anyone within hearing range to do as he said without question. 

Golden eyes peered up at him from the edge of the blanket, but instead of being topped by calico ears, Kuroo noticed dark roots fading into golden blonde hair. They looked… hesitant, maybe a little frightened. Kuroo took a deep breath, running a hand through his bedhead. 

“I– why do you look scared? You’re the stranger in my bed?” 

The stranger sat up, bare-chested and a little bleary-eyed, but said nothing. He watched Kuroo carefully, holding himself still, like he was waiting for… something. They studied each other in silence, and Kuroo took a moment to really look. He had to be around Kuroo’s age, maybe a touch younger. The soft angles to his sloped shoulders were covered in white skin that looked like they hadn’t seen much sun in their lifetime, the figure was hardly physically threatening. There was a certain power to his gaze, though, even with the small purple smudges under each golden eye studied him expectantly, almost hopefully. The expression was so familiar Kuroo almost would have said that he knew the person, but that was impossible. He’d never seen those eyes in a human before he’d only seen them in—

“Kitten?”

“Kenma.” The stranger returned, voice low with a natural softness not created by any odd magic of the house. “Kozume Kenma.” 

Kuroo’s head swam at the possibility, at the implication of what had happened here.

“Kenma. Sure. But also…”

The not-quite-stranger’s face pulled into a little half-smile, an expression that tugged at Kuroo’s heart with a surprising fondness. He wanted to see that smile again. The stranger— Kenma, hid behind a curtain of blonde, ducking his head forward as one hand came up to rub at the back of his neck. 

“Yeah, but I might not be as cute in this form.” 

His low voice held a note of something Kuroo wanted to hope was teasing. Maybe this answered more questions than it created. Maybe this actually made perfect sense. They were both tentative, hesitant, but maybe it didn’t need to be complicated. He reached out, adapting his usual motion from stroking at small ears to tucking strands of hair back, studying Kenma’s face closer. The emotions were easier to read in this form, and the remaining knot in Kuroo’s chest loosened at the infinitesimal tilt that placed the small face more firmly in his palm. 

“So you heard and remembered everything, then,  huh?” Kenma nodded silently, expression held between hope and practiced passiveness. “Well, if I could be so bold, I feel you might be cuter, actually. What kind of luck is that?” 

Gold eyes met his again, just the same shade as his own as a hint of red flushed across the newly visible ear. Kenma muttered something under his breath, a familiar grumble that had Kuroo’s smile widening further. He blinked once though as his own words hit him. 

“Luck. Lucky. You’re a bakeneko, aren’t you?” 

Kenma’s gaze widened as he nodded again, still making no move to free himself from Kuroo’s touch. “You’re half-right, I got all the bakeneko genes but have yet to find any of the promised good luck.” 

His thumb smoothed over the soft cheekbone within his reach as he steadied himself. Pulling back on the coy smirk as much as he could, he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Are you implying me being here is proof you’re bad luck? Because you’re the one in my bed.” 

Eyes met his flatly and he coughed a chuckle. This should have felt different, having a real conversation with a real person in his bed. But it was just as easy, just as endearing. He hoped Kenma felt the same way. His hand dropped from Kenma’s face, leaving his fingertips tingling and his blood singing as his smug grin mellowed into something more gentle. 

“Okay, okay I know that look.” He stretched, arms overhead and inhaled deeply– the usual way he started a morning. “Well, Kozume Kenma the nuetral-luck bakeneko, it’s nice to meet you. You want breakfast, kitten?” 

The sudden blinking was a sure sign that Kuroo had startled his housemate, and he schooled his half-crazed grin into something more appropriately friendly. Kenma looked down, smoothing the worn fabric of the blanket between long, graceful fingers. Kuroo waited, unhurried. It had been months since Kenma had been able to communicate with real human speech and something about the way he wrinkled his nose as he found the words made Kuroo think this wasn’t his preferred method of communication in the first place. He was understanding more and more with each spoken and unspoken word, his heart beating rapidly.

“I— it’s that easy?” His voice was carefully even. 

“I don’t see any reason to break a routine that’s been working for the last few months unless you do?” 

Kenma’s eyes met his again, brow furrowed, though his eyes didn’t hold the same anger they had upon their first meetings as housemates. The suspicion was clear in the small lines at the corner of his eyes, though, and he made no move to get up just yet. 

“You must have a thousand questions.” Half-statement, half-accusation.

Kuroo gave an easy half-shrug. “Sure, but instead of asking you all of them at once we can start with the easy ones, like do you want breakfast and should I call Sugawara over, too?” 

Slim shoulders sagged a fraction in nearly invisible relief, “Yes. Yes to both.” The unspoken ‘make him explain everything’ was heard loud and clear, and Kuroo intended to do just that. That settled, he turned his head respectfully and waited for Kenma to pad across the hall and dress before they made their way to the kitchen to wait for Sugawara— and the breakfast they both decided he owed them. 

Leaning on the counter, Kuroo watched Kenma thoughtfully. Smooth blonde hair shifted as Kenma’s head tilted to the side slightly, his own small mouth tipped up in a knowing little smile. “You can ask a few more before he gets here if you want, Kuro.” 

He blinked, his questions immediately forgotten. “Kuro?” 

Kenma’s head dipped forward again, the curtain of hair shielding him once more. “It’s easier to say than Kuroo,” he mumbled. 

Rather than chiding him for mumbling the way Kuroo would have done to the cat version of his housemate, or arguing that one less letter really made no difference, Kuroo fought back the flush of red across his own cheeks as he cleared his throat. 

“Oh. Okay, then.” He paused, scrambling for any kind of coherent question that would put them back in familiar territory. “Well, if questions are still on the table, how about we keep going with the easy stuff. What’s your favorite video game?” 

The way Kenma sat up and brightened at the question felt like an immediate reward, the gold of his eyes glowed as he talked easily about some of the older games he held a fond nostalgia for, and how Kuroo had played them all absolutely abysmally. Kuroo’s hyena laugh bounced through the kitchen, pulling more small smiles from Kenma as their conversation flowed, neither of them realizing Sugawara never showed up with breakfast.

— EPILOGUE —

It should be said that eventually, days later, the witch/fake landlord did show his face at Kenma’s townhouse, after he had confirmed he wouldn’t be greeted with claws or hostility. He’d arrived with dinner one night, arms laden with food in an obvious– but appreciated– attempt to recoup any good graces he’d once had.

Over the meal, Kuroo learned all about Sugawara’s healer boyfriend and the different kinds of potions he had worked on to help keep shapeshifters in one form for healers to work on them more accurately. This noble pursuit then led to Sugawara’s brilliant idea of trapping Kenma in his cat form. He swore up and down that his sole intention was to give the reclusive bakeneko a chance to meet a real human-like person and like them and had nothing to do with enacting revenge for Kenma’s absolute destruction of Sugawara’s character while streaming RDO a few months back. To hear Sugawara tell it, Kenma had readily written off every person, besides Sugawara and his partner, and it had left the witch to take drastic measures just to prove to Kenma that other people weren’t awful if he gave them a chance.

“I just wanted him to see not all people suck… and I maybe wanted someone to like him for him, the way I do.” He’d laid one hand over Kenma’s fondly, looking between Kenma and Kuroo with a smirk. “Though I may have gotten more than I bargained for on both ends of that deal.” 

They’d both blushed and looked away. 

The trio also discussed the house, Kenma taking the reins to explain that the house was heavily charmed by Sugawara himself at Kenma’s request.

“Something I have come to regret when it’s driven me to such drastic measures,” Sugawara put the back of his hand to his forehead with melodramatic flair. 

Rolling his eyes, Kenma continued as if Sugawara hadn’t spoken at all. “I wanted a place that’s quiet… but also a place where no one could come in and be fake or deceitful.” 

Kuroo’s eyebrows had lifted in confusion at that. Who would be trying to deceive Kenma? 

Plenty of folks apparently. Kenma was popular online as a streamer and in a number of local social circles as a bakeneko from a prominent line known for lucky streaks– despite his own apparent lack of luck. He’d had a hard time forming friendships, partly due to his own aversion to the concept and partly due to people looking to take advantage of a relationship with him in any capacity. 

“So that’s why I sound like this.” 

Sugawara nodded sagely while it was Kenma’s turn to look confused. Kuroo had chanced a wink at him. “I’ll get you to come pick up dinner with me sometime and I’ll tell you a story on the way, you’ll like my voice a lot better.” 

Kenma shook his head, utilizing his blonde barrier once more. 

“I like your voice fine now.” 

Sugawara beamed between them before something struck him, and he visibly slumped. 

“Oh! And now that Kenma has full control over his faculties and can open a takeout bag with his own thumbs, I’m willing to help figure out what our next steps are.” 

Kuroo looked back and forth between the two, though Kenma looked as mystified as he felt. “Next steps for what?” 

The witch waved an airy hand, “For your living situation. I can’t well force Kenma to keep you in his house anymore now that he can be in his human form at will. But fret not! I have a few options lined up and you’ll have me as a voucher for your Proof of Peaceful—” 

“I apprecia—”

“He can—”

Suga and Kuroo paused mid-word as Kenma spoke up. He cleared his throat once, looking between them seriously. 

“He’s not going anywhere. There’s no reason for him to go anywhere else.” 

It took an act of unmatched willpower for Kuroo’s jaw to stay shut when he wanted to whoop with what felt like victory. Sugawara snapped his own mouth shut, the happy sparkle returning to his eyes. 

Well then,” He stood, his smug smile softening considerably as he looked at Kenma. “I suppose you two will have plenty to figure out and I should take my leave.” 

Kenma watched him stand, his expression one of internal conflict. His jaw worked for a moment before he said, “Suga… thanks. Never do that again but… thanks.”

Reaching down to ruffle his hair, Suga’s voice was fond as he replied. “All I did was make your life inconvenient enough that you had to let someone physically enter your house. You did the rest by being yourself.” He looked to Kuroo with a smirk, “and I trust I held up my end of the bargain?”

Kuroo’s responding smile was half confused, “lying about being a landlord, having any right to this house, and about having a cat as a housemate was holding up your end of the bargain?” 

Sugawara’s laughed chimed out, musical in its amusement, “Well that, and the part where it came fully furnished and you’d find everything you need here.” He winked, shutting the door behind him. The click of the knob was muffled by Sugawara’s own magic, but it sounded oddly like a blessing. 

Kuroo looked at Kenma from across the kotatsu. 

“I’m not going anywhere, huh?” 

Kenma’s gaze didn’t falter as he looked back, his eyebrows furrowing a little, the stare equal parts a challenge and a plea. 

“You found everything you need here?” 

Stretching one hand across the kotatsu, Kuroo crooked his fingers softly. As Kenma slid his hand into Kuroo’s grasp he smiled. 

“You know, you’re definitely cuter like this.”